Chapter 33 Junie
Junie
Everyone survived the Cards night—no arrests, no tickets, no fistfights—and the following day, the women gather in a circle
for another Good Hair Days meeting at the shop. After last night’s fireworks, libations are purposefully absent.
Georgia calls the meeting to attention and dives right into a review of last night. “First of all, a big thank-you to Cece
for playing our hand.”
Cece shuffles uncomfortably in her seat, reminding everyone that she hasn’t yet apologized for her ghastly behavior.
“For the night we won $1,297 at the tables, and we made a whopping $1,822 on the bar!”
“We’re getting there, ladies,” Tina says. She claps, looking around the circle woman to woman as if to confirm that everyone
is as thrilled as she is.
Junie glances at Georgia to see which one of them will be the one to say it. Georgia swings her eyes over and gives an imperceptible
shake of the head. Fine. Junie won’t say it—that they’re not even anywhere close to the number they need.
“We should go ahead and schedule as many Cards nights as we can,” Georgia says. “And maybe we can mention a voluntary donation for the shop reno?” She says the last part in an upward-lilting voice.
“No, ma’am!” Junie belts out. “No handouts.”
Georgia does one of her mini huffs. “But don’t you remember what Tina said before? Folks would love to help if they knew the
trouble we’re in.”
Yes, Junie knows. The Silvers have already offered to do their thing, plus Michaela, but that’s not what Junie needs. She
needs to stand on her own two feet.
“I know it’s frustrating, but we’re doing ok so far,” Junie says. “Misty Prince and her undercover threats seem momentarily
calm, and we’ve got the sheriff turning a blind eye to Cards. We’re still seeing some clients. Things are alright.”
Tina cuts in. “But Georgia has a whole life she’s put on hold for us, Junie.”
“And she’ll probably need to head back to her job soon, I’d think,” Cece says. “Plus, Sheriff Mike was very clear that he’s
got new guys on the ground, and he can’t vouch for what they will or won’t report.”
Georgia leans in, propping her elbows on her knees. “And we know Misty’s not exactly going away. She’s been this way since
she was a kid; it’s not like she’s turned over a new leaf. Come on, Junie. June’s hasn’t ever truly belonged to just one person.
She’s a little bit for everyone. Why not let people pitch in?” Georgia doesn’t respond to the fact that she’s due back at
work tomorrow.
She makes a good argument, though, and if Junie wasn’t secretly riddled with disease and losing the battle to drum up the
guts to tell her sister, she’d probably agree. She has another appointment tomorrow, and she’s certain they will tell her
she needs to start chemo. Start chemo? Junie hasn’t even told her people yet. She hasn’t even come to terms with it yet. She certainly has no peace with it.
“Let me think on it,” Junie says.
“I’ll take that.” Georgia grins back at her so generously that it stops her from the inside out. Junie feels a mixture of a gratitude vast enough to drown her and a cutting pain at knowing what she will eventually set on her big sister.
“I don’t deserve you,” Junie says, and she knows Georgia won’t understand.
“I could say the same for you, Junie Bug,” Georgia says.
Soon enough the women pack up the meeting and the aunts head home. Georgia straggles as Junie tries to wrangle her to the
truck so they can go. Junie’s beat.
“Can we chat for a moment?” Georgia asks.
“Can’t we do it at home?” Junie could handle just about any conversation if she’s curled up in her spot with a bowl of ice
cream.
“It’s more of a Good Hair Days thing, so I’d rather it stay here.”
“Fine, spill it.” Junie drops into a hair chair.
“Look, I know you’re set on doing this on your own, but at this rate it’s going to take months before we’ve got the money to move forward. And that doesn’t even account for the construction delays we know will happen.
I want you to do this the way you always wanted, but also, the longer we stay open like this, the longer we run a risk.”
“Risk is riding a motorcycle without a helmet or playing Russian roulette with hair color tubes,” Junie says.
“Yes, Junie, it’s a risk. I don’t expect the licensing board to get wind, but if in the worst-case scenario they did, everything
would be on the line. They could shut down the shop. We can’t run things in this shape for a day longer than absolutely required.
Not to mention the money we’ll lose having to be picky about customers.”
She’s right. Of course, and as freakin’ usual.
“Maybe,” Junie says. The weight of her guilt wiggles in the pit of her stomach.
Georgia sighs and drops into the hair chair beside her. “Why did we say this meeting would be dry?”
“Because last night everyone was drinking at Cards, and Cece just about tried to fight you.” Junie spins her chair and reaches into a supply drawer, then pulls out a bottle of bourbon. “But you and I are both on our best behavior.”
“You running a bar or a hair shop here?” Georgia asks.
“Let’s be honest,” Junie says. “June’s has never been one single thing at a time.”
Georgia takes the bottle and holds it up in a salute. “Isn’t that the truth.”
“It’s good having you here,” Junie replies.
Georgia pauses, staring across the room like she’s thinking. “I should probably call my boss.” She looks over, and after another
pause, she cracks a smile. “It’s not like I can dip out now and abandon y’all.”
The joy starts in the depths of Junie’s belly, runs through her limbs, and cracks her face in folds of delight. It’s sitting
here, right beside Georgia, feeling like a million bucks, that Junie doubts she might be sick at all. This right here could
power her for years—bad cells, whatever. With her sister at her side, there’s nothing Junie can’t do.